


Come Closer (and Show Me Your Fantasy)

by tukimecca



Series: Baby, don't Like it [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Related, Jaehyun is gentle Dom, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Taeyong is pampered princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukimecca/pseuds/tukimecca
Summary: Jaehyun thought his days of watching Taeyong with choker were over. Taeyong proves him wrong.





	

_I like it when we got closer, when it gets risky_ __  
_it feels like the start when you hold my hand tightly_   
when I’m with you danger seems like a good thing

Baby Don’t Like it – NCT127

:::

Jaehyun thought the days of having to curb the ever so hungry lion inside of him were over. Jaehyun thought the days of having to put cold as they were blazing chains around the said lion’s neck and limbs were long gone, for good, forever. A long-awaited goodbye. A welcomed farewell.

 _Oh_ , were they excruciating indeed. A slow, torturous temptation; having to see some kind of choker always wrapped around Taeyong’s neck on almost every single of their promotional activity. Jaehyun remembered thinking it was a refreshing change after NCT U’s promotion, where Taeyong’s concept required him to hide that delectable expanse of skin behind tightly-zipped cloths. But his opinion took abrupt 180 degrees turn after seeing actual Taeyong in choker.

The choker should be his – Jaehyun’s – grainy red leather exterior, lined with silver zipper, and clasped by huge silver buckle. He wore that for teaser photo and music video, wore that on stage, too. The matching bangles went to Taeyong, he didn’t mind; he _loved_ it, to had something that bounded Taeyong’s wrists being the similar ones with the one circling his neck. A superficial connection, attachment born only from his lustful thought.

The choker became his favorite; he imagined wearing them on Taeyong, sliding that smooth leather against creamy, sun-kissed skin, preferably after he peppered them with kisses that bruised, after he _marked_ him. He imagined slipping one, long finger between the leather and skin, relishing in the different textures, relishing in the way Taeyong’s breath would caught with slightly added pressure, relishing in the way Taeyong would gaze up into his eyes; glimmering obsidian shining with trust, with surrender. With need that dripped down, sweet like honey, hot like molten gold.

Jaehyun had let Taeyong knew about his fantasy, whispering them on the elder’s ears in one of those nights when Jaehyun needed to feel in control and Taeyong be controlled in return. At the time, none of them thought it’d happen for real, not until the stylist Noona came and put the choker on Taeyong instead of Jaehyun.

He remembers how their eyes had met; a brief collision of stars, beautiful yet catastrophic. Because Taeyong with his neck all constrained like that was beautiful, but the way it robbed Jaehyun of all his breath and self-control was decidedly not.

It didn’t stop until there, they kept giving Taeyong (and himself) more chokers; thin black leather with studs, a thick, simple black with silver buckle, another smooth black with chains and hoops, red with studs in variety of sizes. Jaehyun felt dizzy; from the sheer exertion of choreography and humongous effort to stop his mind from spiraling down somewhere forbidden.

His brain literally short circuited when in Yeouido fansign, Taeyong appeared with the very same choker that Jaehyun had fantasized wrapped around his neck. He choked on his drink, Taeyong caught it but said nothing, merely giving him a furtive, shy smile, lashes dropping demurely in a way that reminded Jaehyun of unspoken nights under the secretive blanket of stars.  Taeyong kept fingering the red-leather throughout the fansign. That night, Jaehyun fucked him with fingers tight around the base of his neck, imagining they’re the choker instead of his fingers; restraining him, bounding him, keeping him in check. Taeyong’s eyes were glassy pool of black; the silvers scattered in them reminded Jaehyun of the zippers. They made love thrice that night, Taeyong came under his command once untouched.

Jaehyun thought the days were gone when Limitless concept was introduced and he thanked heaven for the loose clothings, albeit the choice of style was still questionable as always. Nevertheless, no choker means no keeping the monster of his greed in check, no worry of accidentally getting boner on stage as well (up to this day, he still wondered how did he manage to survive with those impossibly tight pants).

His relief only lasted for two weeks because today Taeyong enters the dressing room; black tresses styled into immaculate tousle; big, kitten-lively eyes smudged and lined black; high nose and chiseled cheeks emphasized with the barest hint of makeup; pink lips that Jaehyun had seen stretched around his cock multiple times plumped slightly with gloss; and choker, black _fucking_ choker. Or a belt, because its long tail dangles on his chest.

Jaehyun drops his mouth open from where he’s being dolled up for the event. The stylist noona gives him exasperated chuckle.

“I’m not sure you want to eat loose powder, Jaehyun-sshi.”

Jaehyun closes his mouth, or maybe _clamps_ is the right term, he does it so abruptly that his teeth click together painfully. He can feel the funny look stylist _noona_ gives him. He ignores it and focus on _not looking at Taeyong-hyung_.

“Look what we got here,” someone, Johnny, whistles.

Jaehyun fails his mission miserably.

Jaehyun loosens the tight grip around his lion’s leash, just slightly because unless so, he’s not sure he can stop the hungry beast from pouncing on its prey, _prey_ here being Taeyong who sits prettily beside Johnny, grinning merrily as he pats Johnny’s shoulder and sits beside him. Taeyong is gravity, and Jaehyun’s eyes are the apple. They’re attracted to him, naturally, following every gesture Taeyong makes, adoring the way Taeyong’s nose scrunches up as he laughs at the joke Johnny makes. His gaze drops then to the slender, black cord snugly wrapped around his neck.

Jaehyun swallows, thick and audible. The stylist noona ushers him away, then calls for Haechan. The blond stumbles up from his seat, awkward, ungainly legs. He stubs his hip on the nearby table, and when he yelps in pain, Taeyong’s attention quickly shifts to him, eyes open and alert, yet shoulders melting with relief.

His stomach floors, that reaction; the way Taeyong’s body language naturally changes upon his presence, makes it harder to control the roaring lion inside of him. It might means nothing for anyone else, but for Jaehyun, it means everything and some more.

A sign of submission, sign of obedience; a reflex born from the heart-searing dynamic between them. The way every single particle that made up Taeyong’s being answer to the call – _command_ – of Jaehyun’s. That simple roll of shoulder, that simple duck of head, that simple straighten of spine, that simple widening of shimmering black and the way they focus on him like Jaehyun is the only thing ever existing; they all speak to him.

And it makes his heart stutters as much as his ego clamors in pride, knowing that _this_ is his doing; _this_ is what he had made Lee Taeyong to be. His submissive and he is Taeyong’s dominant; someone whose words Taeyong would cling onto, someone whose arms Taeyong would seek a stronghold in. If Jaehyun is the writer, then Taeyong is the character. If Jaehyun is the artist, then Taeyong is the clay.

If there was anyone who’s allowed to wrap their hand around that strip of black leather dangling from Taeyong’s neck, that person shouldn’t be anyone but Jaehyun.

“Jaehyunnie?” Taeyong asks timidly, and there’s worry splashing ash-grey on Taeyong’s face, rainy clouds rolling in. His lower lips wobble, and even unsaid, Jaehyun can hear the unspoken words, the voiceless request for permission.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun answers, but Taeyong probably hears another thing; permission, command. _Come to me,_ because he suddenly longs to have those frail, gentle fingers running through his skin, seeping warmth through the thick fabric of their clothings as Jaehyun breathes him in.

Taeyong stands up from his seat, glorious like rising tide on the moon’s surface, brilliant silver against black. Jaehyun is star struck, short-winded, because even closer, Jaehyun doesn’t think any word from any language can suffice in describing this man in front of him, _this- his_ \- “are you okay?”

Taeyong is close, _so_ close. His hand is on Jaehyun’s hip, the sore spot he just bumped on the table, it stings now, not from the collision with furniture that leers at him mutely, but from the touch of _his_ lover, _his_ sub; caring and attentive. Worried.

And he should be the dominant one, should be the one who assure Taeyong everything will be alright under his charge, fortress unshakeable that would shelter Taeyong from any harm and give him nothing but rainbow-colored pleasure.

“Brilliant,” Jaehyun answers, growling lion turns into doe-eyed cub, clumsily trying to walk on limbs that’re too excited. Taeyong frowns; unconvinced. Sad. Jaehyun begs for the big cat to return and grants him with its majesty. “Really,” he tries again, clasping his hand over Taeyong’s that’s currently resting on his hip, skin to skin. Reassuring. Commanding. Jaehyun squeezes, something in Taeyong shifts, his eyes grow wider. Jaehyun’s voice drops “trust me.”

An order. Fatal and absolute, like sun rises and falls. Taeyong slips somewhere down, but Jaehyun holds him at bay, still afloat by the surface. He blinks rapidly, cutely. Jaehyun hungers to kiss those delectable lips. “Yes,” Taeyong says, breathless. Jaehyun can hear the unspoken ‘ _Sir_ ’.

“Good,” his gaze meanders down to the black cloth fastened on Taeyong’s neck, swallowing. “This, on the other hand….”

Taeyong tucks his chin further in attempt to look at his own neck, Jaehyun counts his lashes, black and full without enhancement of mascara, he remembers the feeling of those short hairs as they sweep over his skin when Jaehyun would let Taeyong worship his body with his lips.

“Didn’t think I’d see them again,” Jaehyun curls his fingers around the smooth material, memorizing its texture against his skin, imprinting image of putting them on his hyung’s neck with his own hands. Something dark and delirious stirs in his chest. He counts the number of the holes (five), counts the number of buttons left undone (one), counts the remaining minutes until he can have Taeyong’s naked skin flush against his own; burning, singing, searing him inside out until he’s nothing but ashes or silver, then he’d rise again, like phoenix, eternal and alive with Taeyong’s love. “What brought this one?”

He gives the belt (choker? _Collar?_ ) a soft tug, Taeyong whimpers, stumbles forward, and if they weren’t in public, Jaehyun would arrest him in his arms and kiss those pretty camellia lips until he’s all Taeyong can breathe in. “Jae-“

“Yes, Hyung?” They’re close, so close, and so is Taeyong; close to dive in under, to let himself drown in the ocean of liquid sunshine and melted stars. But Jaehyun, literally and metaphorically, got a grip on his _leash_ , tight and restraining. This is why people love collar and choker, and many other names they go by; a simple symbol of dominance, a mean to restrain and govern. It holds their sub steady, literally having them in their clutches.

A slight pull, and they’d follow; trusting obedient, unsuspecting compliant. And Taeyong, being the ever so law-abiding sub, he halts his fall, stays upright. Well-trained, for they have spent many nights together perfecting this art of being in command and be commanded. “Stylist noona said it’d look good with the outfit,” he starts, blown eyes locking straight on Jaehyun’s similar ones. “And, and my neck looks lonely…”

Taeyong falters. The sleeping lion in Jaehyun’s stomach is wrenched awake from its slumber by the coiling snake of jealousy. Anger flares, hotly licking on the pit of his gut. Possessiveness is crashing tidal wave, and Jaehyun would be swallowed if his rationale wasn’t the bastion of coral reef, fortified by time. He makes mental note to track who the _hell_ is this stylist who dared to put a collar around Taeyong’s neck when it’s a rights that should be reserved for Jaehyun and Jaehyun alone.

His expression must have changed and the ever so perceptive Taeyong catches it. Jaehyun catches it, too; the sharp intake of breath, the quick avert of eyes, the tremble of glassy pupils, the shoulder drawing in, “if-if you don’t like it, I can-“ Taeyong skims his fingers over the collar, hurried, startled.

Scared. Jaehyun realizes, and it twists his heart, tears it apart to many directions. Jaehyun wants to yank his own hair in frustration at his own stupidity. He uncurls his fingers from the cloth, let it slides smoothly and fall on Taeyong’s chest, using the same fingers, he catches Taeyong’s wrist. “No- don’t, it’s okay. It’s pretty. I meant to say- I didn’t-“

If they were close before, they’re even closer now, impossibly so that they’re practically chest to chest and face to face, and Jaehyun tries so hard not to press this lithe frame flush against him, a task almost impossible with how quickly his blood rushes to the south.

At their close proximity, their mouths fall, breaths lodging on their throats, seemingly content on residing there forever. He can smell Taeyong now; he smells pretty much like Jaehyun, Jaehyun has let Taeyong wears his cologne since they started this clandestine affair. The refreshing breeze of Brighton beach, the earthy scent drifting from woods of boardwalk pier. Distant summer washed ashore, drawing closer, then lingers. It’s the same fragrance that he cloaks himself in, but on Taeyong, it smells even more alluring, a magnetic pull of lapping waves.

_“And, wow, I do, I really sincerely do wish that you remember we’re here and there are two minors here, right?_

Thunder ripping sky in two, unforgiving zap of electricity. Storm brewing over the ocean; it jolts them awake from their dreamland of seaside sanctuary. Taeyong jumps – literally jumps – on the spot, Jaehyun catches him when he lands, steadying him by the wrists.

He whirls around to find Johnny; Johnny who has been sitting on the same spot beside the one Taeyong just emptied, Johnny who has been watching their exchange mutely, Johnny who has been calling them out. In English.

 _“Oh my God,”_ Jaehyun gasp weakly in the same language. Blood races back to his face, coloring his fair skin with vibrant, red color.

Taeyong is just as flushed as he is, mouth hanging open at Johnny’s direction. Johnny who’s giving them complicated look and two finger salute. Fuck Johnny, he’s not seeing _this_ face of Taeyong. Jaehyun gives one of Taeyong’s hand a sharp tug; _eyes on me_.

Codes well-rehearsed. Taeyong’s gaze flows back to him immediately. Jaehyun feels like smirking smugly at unsuspecting Johnny.

 _“Oh my God indeed,”_ Johnny winces. _“Look, whatever it is,_ ” he looks around them; at their bandmates who are obviously struggling not to make themselves appear like they’re aware of what has been going on between their leader and lead vocal.

Jaehyun begs for earth to open up and swallow him whole. Taeyong? He’d send him to hole in the sky so he can return to where he belongs with eternally glittering stars. Taeyong would shine brilliantly, so luminous that he’d make the other celestial rocks cower in shame. Jaehyun accidentally catches Mark’s eyes on the mirror, and now he’s the one who is shrinking in shame.

Johnny claps his hands together, eyes begging as much as they’re understanding, _“just please keep it behind the door?”_

Startled, for a moment the thought that Johnny knows what’s _actually_ going on behind the closed door strangled him with fear. But that’s not possible, they’ve been really careful ( _“no, you aren’t,”_ a voice in his head said. Jaehyun ignores it), and Johnny is not the type to keep his silence over matter like this. If he has something to say with the other members, he’d say it. An honest, good man, not afraid of confrontation for the sake of unification. A good friend.

But they’ve roomed together for a while now, and this kind of topic was never brought, not even once. _Well_ , there might have been a couple of nights when the two of them were too honest, tongue went loose with drowsiness. And Jaehyun might have accidentally revealed his affection for their deer-eyed leader, but Johnny’s response was neutral. Not agreeing, nor invalidating. A short and simple, “I see.” Acceptance. Sleepy Jaehyun went to the dreamland with relief flooding his chest.

So Johnny doesn’t know – _can’t_ – know. And the implication behind his words is about Jaehyun’s poorly concealed emotion toward their leader, and their leader’s equally open devotion toward him.

Jaehyun’s heart is crowded with joy and jubilation. Stunted, he croaks out, _“yes, Hyung. Sorry, hyung. Behind the- yeah, okay. Aye aye, Captain!”_

Johnny laughs, follows it with tired shake of his head. He slumps back to his seat, visibly relaxing, and with simple jerk of his chin toward the door, he says, _“go then.”_

Truthfully, he wants to ask Johnny; _go where?_ Because even if they leave now, it’s not like they can carry out the plan Jaehyun has drawn in his head; one that includes Taeyong, naked but for the soft, leather cord wrapped around his neck. Black, a stark contrast against his luscious, milky skin.

But one glance at squirming mark, Yuta’s glancing back and forth eyes, Doyoung’s measly attempt at hiding his curiosity, Jaehyun thinks leaving the room is really the best decision for the moment. So he turns to Taeyong, pouring all his attention to his lovely, lovely Sub whose face are flaming crimson, velvety rose in full bloom.

One pull, soft yet commanding. Taeyong looks up at him, opulent black eyes answering. Jaehyun smiles down, all dimples and honey-gold affection. “Shall we go, Hyung?”

Taeyong obeys, of course, he is a good sub, has always been good for Jaehyun. He entrusts himself to Jaehyun, all of him entirely whole, and it makes Jaehyun’s heart sings, makes his heart play a grandeur orchestra.

He lets go of one hand, slips his fingers in between the others, hold them tight; securing, compelling. “My throat is quite parched,” he says, and in a sense, it’s true. He’s thirsty; of the taste of Taeyong’s skin and his name falling from those red, delicate lips. Of marking and branding him with his kisses. Of sending Taeyong down under as Jaehyun makes love to him.

Of fastening the black, silky leather around his neck. Claiming him makes him repeat that oath of submission while Jaehyun has him on the floor, on his bended knees; _I’m yours, forever, always. Sir. Yours and I will be good for you_ , (or maybe stretched across Jaehyun’s lap, either way, he doesn’t mind).

Jaehyun doesn’t wait for the affirmation for he knows the answer already. Quick, like the accelerating of his (their) heartbeats, they leave the room. Jaehyun doesn’t know where to go, but he knows where he want to go; it doesn’t have to be somewhere closed, it can be somewhere secluded, away from prying eyes where he can tell Taeyong, right on his ears, about things that Jaehyun wants to do with him tonight.

“Where are we going, Jaehyunnie?” Taeyong asks, still sounding a little short-winded. Jaehyun glances at him from behind his shoulder, smiling.

“Do you trust me?”

Taeyong blinks at him rapidly, perplexed. His answer leaves Jaehyun breathless again. “Always. Forever. Why?”

Jaehyun wants to cry, he is full to the brim with emotion. He loves this man; his sub, his lover, his hyung, his leader, his beacon of hope and the man who makes him want to be better, stronger, so he can protect him from the current, and he wants to shout his love from the rooftop right now.

He doesn’t, of course, because time is ticking and they have award to attend. They arrive at relatively deserted corridor that, Jaehyun remembers, is connected to an empty space. He hopes that small hall has all curtains drawn. “Just follow me, Hyung. I got something to tell.”

“Something?” Taeyong tilts his head aside, curious kitten-adorable. Jaehyun’s heart melts like chocolate at the endearing sight.

He turns around and pulls Taeyong closer so they’re back chest to chest, nose to nose. “Mm-hmm, something, something that I’m hoping I – _we_ – can do tonight.”

Taeyong’s mouth falls open, luminous black eyes go glassy. Jaehyun continues smiling, heartfelt and genuine, completely happy, in bliss. And he can’t wait, he _really_ cannot wait until the sun bids its farewell, and shadow grows longer as night comes settling in.

Because only then, under the rich drape of secretive, twinkling starry sky, they can let their restrains undone as they claim their love for each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Jaehyun! Another birthday fic with no birthday scene at all. The idea has been playing in my mind ever since SMA happened and Taeyong floored me with how ethereally fragile he was, and Jaehyun being the epitome of solid, unbreakable wall. Very dom/sub appropriate material. This one is more ‘vanilla’ than the previous one, just some naughty imagination here and there, and the rest is jaeyong being cute.
> 
> Apologize for any mistakes, timeline or place inaccuracy. Events mentioned; Seoul Music Awards 20170119. Set in the same verse as my previous dom/sub jaeyong.


End file.
